


The four of them

by rimz08



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:59:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rimz08/pseuds/rimz08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each of the four men in her life has a special role - more Marie stories.<br/>First up - storytelling.<br/>Short and fluffy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Come on then, off to bed with you," says d'Artagnan. He has been watching Marie's eyes drifting closed for the past ten minutes as she nestled into her mother's lap, listening to the adults talking around the table. But now, as he goes to lift her up and carry her to bed she is suddenly wide awake.  
"I want a story!" She demands.  
"Fine. Let's go little lady," her father replies.  
"I want 'Mis to tell me a story!" she says, struggling out of his arms and running to Aramis.  
"Trying not to feel rejected…." complains her father.  
"Close your mouth dear, she doesn't love you any less. She just knows who to go to for a good story!" his wife tells him. Then she turns to Aramis, "Just no dragons this time."  
"Or witches!" chimes in Marie, "they scare me."  
"No wild animals," adds d'Artagnan.  
"And no evil cardinals," mutters Athos.  
"Or beautiful but deadly estranged wives. They give me nightmares," chuckles Porthos.  
"Enough! You're not leaving me much to work with here!" complains Aramis.  
"You're not the one who has to wake up every time she gets a nightmare, Monsieur!" Constance counters, fixing him with the glare.  
"Right, madame, of course," he bows to her with a flourish, "Come on then, I'll think of something while you get tucked in."  
"I want the one with the beautiful lady and the beast." Marie pouts as she goes off towards her room.  
"Oh, that one…. Right…" Aramis says, following her.

D'Artagnan leans in the doorway watching his friend finish telling Marie the story. He listens as Aramis relates how the beautiful woman saw past the way the beast looked, into his heart, and fell in love with him, how when she did he became a handsome prince and the two lived happily ever after, with their son Philip, of course. Marie's eyes are finally closed and he looks on as Aramis gives her a tender kiss on the forehead and pulls the blanket up to her chin. When he finally heads towards the door, d'Artagnan is waiting for him.  
"Thanks for that," he says quietly.  
"No, thank you," says Aramis, looking back longingly at Marie.


	2. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For fun and games, who better than Porthos?

 

 

"Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of little d'Artagnan," calls out Porthos. Aramis, behind him, raises an eyebrow approvingly but Porthos just brings a finger to his lips.

A small giggle can be heard from under Treville's desk.

Treville looks decidedly unimpressed as Porthos dives under his desk and re-emerges with a giggling Marie.

"Did you miss the memo about this being a garrison, for soldiers, not a playground for children?" he asks.

"Oh sir," wheedles Porthos, "we're just having a bit of fun. It's not like we've been so busy lately." He might be able to discipline Porthos and Aramis, but Treville can't resist Marie's puppy dog eyes, so like her father's.

"Fine," he bristles, "just… well…. Just not in my office. Go!"

"Yes sir, 'course sir," says Porthos, throwing Marie over his shoulder and leaving.

 

"Okay, one more time Marie, then we have to go home. Mama will be waiting for us," her father tells her. Marie nods sagely then runs to Porthos and throws her arms around him, "One more time! One more time!" she cries happily.

Porthos begins to count, eyes closed, and Marie runs off. When he reaches twenty, Porthos begins stomping around looking for her, calling her name and reciting the rhyme he invented for her.

Aramis and d'Artagnan watch from the wooden bench next to the table. Athos brings a bottle to his lips and drinks long and hard.

After ten minutes without luck Porthos enlists the help of the others. Athos shakes his head and rolls his eyes, taking another drink.

After twenty minutes d'Artagnan is starting to fret.

"Constance is going to kill me. How can we have lost my daughter?" he whines.

"I always find her by her giggles…" says Porthos, at a loss, "she's not actually very good at this game. Or at least she's not supposed to be. I mean she is only three."

Porthos is startled by a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see Athos, who signals that he should with him. The others follow along in the direction of the stables. Athos points to a bundle in the corner. Marie is curled up on a pile of straw, thumb in her mouth, sleeping peacefully. D'Artagnan lets out a sigh of relief before scooping her up in his arms.

"I know how she feels," he sighs, as he passes by the others on his way out, carrying his precious bundle homewards, "running around after her is exhausting."

"I don't know about you two," says Porthos turning to the others, "but I need a drink."

Athos and Aramis nod in approval and follow him in the direction of the nearest inn.


	3. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Athos' turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got carried away with this one, more than the others. It's more angsty, family oriented, and even includes a bit of hurt d'Artagnan because that's how I like him...

Five year old Marie is sitting on the floor, trying to encourage baby Thomas' newly found crawling abilities. She continuously moves the object he wants further away from him, then claps when he inches towards it. In the background she hears her mama humming as she sews.

The quiet of the scene is broken by the clomping of boots and Marie immediately looks up, hoping that her papa is finally home. He's been out with the others since last night and Marie is looking forward to showing him the new game that she and Thomas are playing.

When the door opens, though she sees not her papa, but Aramis. Marie wants to run to him and jump into his arms but she senses from his tense expression that something is not right. Constance rises and Marie feels something change in the atmosphere of the room. No words are spoken but her mother nods almost imperceptibly, puts a forced smile on her face, scoops up Thomas and ushers them into Marie's room.

"Stay here and play with Thomas, sweetheart. I just need to talk to uncle Aramis. Don't come out until I say, alright?"

It isn't alright, but Marie nods sagely, biting her lip. She can tell that something is wrong but knows not to fight with mama. From papa she can usually get whatever she wants, but her mother is a whole different story. Papa often says that the two of them are the same, and on some level Marie knows what he means. Neither likes to give in, ever. Although this time, Marie is too frightened to fight with her mama.

Marie sits on the floor and continues her game with Thomas. She hears footsteps in the kitchen, some banging and voices murmuring from the bedroom next door. She has no concept of time, but feels that she has been shut in the room forever. When Thomas begins to cry she picks him up and puts him in her bed, patting his back until he falls asleep, as she has seen her mother do.

Once she is sure that Thomas is sleeping she quietly opens the door and sneaks out. The door to her parents' bedroom is half open and from her vantage point she can see her mother sitting on the edge of the bed, a bloody cloth in her hand. Aramis is bent over her father, his back to her. She can hear voices in hushed tones – those of Porthos, Aramis and her mother. Frightened by the sight in front of her, Marie bolts for the door and runs out into the fresh air of the street.

Outside she takes deep breaths, trying to stop the tears from coming. She looks right and left, frantically, and instantly knows where she needs to go. She needs the safety of the one man who was not in that room, the one who will understand. She needs Athos, who has kissed away the pain of her grazed knees, splinters and cuts. She seeks out the arms that have held her and shushed her for as long as she can remember, the hands that wiped away her tears. Her childish sensitivity has always enabled her to see his gruff exterior for what it is: a front, a hiding place. Her feet carry her through the familiar alleyways until she reaches the right building. She runs up the stairs and opens the door to Athos' rooms, only to find them empty. Not knowing what to do now, she climbs into his bed, hugs the pillow, which smells of his unique scent, close to her chest, and cries herself to sleep.

 

Athos has finished reporting back to Captain Treville on the incident at the palace during which d'Artagnan took a bullet for the king and makes his way to check on his injured friend. He finds Aramis finishing up his stitching, Constance sitting on the edge of the bed and Porthos cleaning up the bloody mess. As he observes the scene he notices something crawling in between his legs. Bending down, he smiles at Thomas and picks him up.

"Well hello there little man," he says, "I see you've learned to crawl"

At the sound of his voice, Constance turns to him, "Thomas?" she asks, "where did he come from? I left him and Marie in…." she jumps up and runs to the other room.

"Marie is gone!" she cries out, frantically.

Her shrieks rouse d'Artagnan, but Aramis quickly pushes him back down, "You stay still, you are not going anywhere."

"We'll find her, don't worry," Porthos tries to soothe both worried parents, "how far can she have gone?"

"Why would she do this?" asks Constance, "why would she run away?"

"Probably because she was frightened and didn't understand what was going on. I think I know where to look," says Athos, handing Thomas to his mother, "wait here."

 

Marie is woken up by someone stroking her hair. She feels safe and secure at first, but as she becomes more aware of her surroundings she starts to panic.

"Hey, calm down little one," she hears a familiar voice tell her, "everything is fine." Athos takes in her tear stained cheeks and red nose (as well as the stains on his pillow) and envelops her in a bear hug.

Marie begins to sob again, "My papa…."

"Your papa is going to be fine. He got a little hurt in his shoulder, that's all. But you running off has scared him and your mama."

"No one told me what happened," says Marie with hitching breaths in between sobs, "I saw the blood and I thought he was dead and…."

"It's okay, everything is going to be fine," Athos reassures her, "now let's take you home."

Marie merely nods in agreement.

 

Athos carries her home. Even when they get inside, she does not want to leave his arms, burrowing into his shoulder and grabbing at his shirt with her little fists. He sets her down on the empty side of parents' bed, next to her father's uninjured side. "Here little one," he says, gently easing her away him, "see, your papa's going to be just fine."

She finally dares to raise her head and look at her father. When their eyes meet a small smile spreads over her face, "Papa?" she asks quietly.

"Come here you silly thing," d'Artagnan says to her, opening his good arm wide and enveloping her in a tight hug. She starts to cry into his chest. Over the top of her head he looks at Athos and mouths to him "thank you".

"Don't be too hard on her," Athos says, more to Constance than d'Artagnan (since he knows that his friend is a pushover when it comes to his daughter). Constance, from her chair by the bed holding Thomas close to her chest, nods. She gets up and moves over to the bed, placing her hand on her daughter's back, trying to soothe the sobs.

Athos goes out to the kitchen, where Aramis is washing hands in a bucket of water and Porthos is taking long gulps of wine straight out of the bottle. Athos grabs it from him, sits down and drinks. It isn't long before Marie comes into the kitchen to join him, grimly climbing up into his lap and hugging him tight.

"I love you uncle Athos," she mumbles into his shirt. She then looks up at the others, understanding in the innocent way that only a child can, that her words might be misunderstood, "and you uncle Porthos, and uncle Aramis," she says, before putting her head back onto Athos' shoulder.

"As we all love you, Marie," replies Athos.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And last but by no means last.... d'Artagnan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing these. Hope you all enjoyed reading them! There will be more Marie stories at some point...

To say that Marie idolizes her papa would be the understatement of the century. As much as Constance may ostensibly complain that "of course she adores him, he gives her whatever she wants, leaving me all the hard work," she secretly loves to watch them together. It reminds her of how she felt when her father would lift her onto his shoulders, swing her around and call her his little princess, the little girl he doted on after three boys.

On nights before a mission, Marie is inconsolable. Constance watches from the doorway as d'Artagnan lies on the bed next to her, whispering softly, until she finally falls asleep. She listens to him tell Marie that she is his "brave little mouse" and asking her to take care of mama, and Thomas, after their son is born. She knows that he stays there long after Marie is asleep, stroking her soft hair and drinking in every detail of her to take along with him on the trip, and she is happy, seeing his determination to come back to them. When he makes love to her before he leaves, she understands his devotion, commitment to her, and feels cherished in a way she never knew possible.

For Marie, the best days are always those of her papa's return. He usually tries to bring her a present, and the present always has a story. Like the sea shell in which she can hear the sound of the ocean that she has never seen, which he fought with pirates to win for her. Or the smooth, black stone he climbed a ravine to find. Whenever he returns, after holding on to him for dear life for a few moments, she quickly turns her attention to his pockets or saddle bag, rummaging through for her gift, as her mama and papa embrace and chuckle.

The other days that Marie looks forward to are parade days. When the king and queen parade through Paris in their coach, her papa is (almost always) riding alongside them, tall and proud in his blue cloak. Marie thinks that there is nothing more wonderful in the world than seeing her papa by the king's side, and that of course her papa is much more handsome. When the other little girls she plays with boast about their fathers, she always has the trump card. No one can beat having a king's musketeer for a father.

Today though, Marie is sad. A new girl, Clara, has recently joined the group of friends who meet to play in the square. She won't believe that Marie's papa is a Musketeer and laughs at her, telling her that Musketeers don't marry and have children, so she must be a liar. To her despair, none of the other children back her up and Marie runs home in tears.

When she bursts into the kitchen, she is surprised to find her papa at home, talking seriously with her uncles.  As soon as she enters their conversation stops abruptly.

"Whatever is the matter little one?" asks Aramis, bending down to her, but she doesn't want him, or Porthos or Athos, she wants her papa, and pushes past them to get to him.

"What happened little mouse?" he asks, stroking her cheek, wiping the tears away, and lifting her onto his knee. She doesn't notice that he only uses one arm.

In hitching breaths she tells him what happened in the square, and he rubs her back, trying to soothe her. He looks up at the others and they all seem to agree on something. But Marie doesn't notice, she is so absorbed in her tears.

"Well," says her father, "you tell Clara to come and watch the parade tomorrow, on the way to the Cathedral."

Marie looks at him with bright eyes and he smiles at her. "Go on, little mouse, run along and tell her that," he says encouragingly.

After she has left, Athos comments drily, "You really will do anything for that child, won't you? Are you going to ride in the parade with a dislocated shoulder and broken wrist?"

"At least it isn't broken ribs. That would hurt a lot more. Aramis can bandage it tightly and I'll be fine. At least now the matter is settled," d'Artagnan replies.

Athos shakes his head in despair, Aramis rolls his eyes before setting to work and Porthos can only laugh at the situation. "You are always saying that she is stubborn like her mother, but I think she gets it from you," he chuckles.

 

 

The king is pleased to see his favorite musketeer riding alongside his carriage in the parade. After the incident during his hunt there had been rumors that he wouldn't be able to ride, but here he is, next to his monarch, and the king is once again struck by the young man's loyalty and devotion to duty, even if he has made a rather strange request.

D'Artagnan holds the reigns of his horse with his good hand. He's been riding for so many years and in so many conditions that a slow trot through Paris with one hand is no problem. Painful, perhaps, but not difficult. The only issue is how to execute his plan, although Constance has promised to help with that.

Constance dresses Marie in her best dress and tidies her hair, before going out to watch the parade. They arrive early, to ensure that they are at the front of the crowd, leaving Thomas with the maid. It is a long wait, but Marie stands patiently, excited as ever to see her father in his full uniform riding next to the king.

She sees some of her friends in the crowd, including Clara, who sticks her tongue out at Marie from afar. Marie holds back her tears. Nothing will spoil this day for her.

And finally the moment has come. She hears the clop of hooves and the wheels of the carriage on the cobblestones and sees them approaching from afar. As they get closer, her papa steers his horse slightly away from the carriage, towards the crowd, and her mama lifts her up and whispers in her ear, "Now you hold on tight, do you hear?" Before she can ask what on earth her mama is talking about, she has been passed to her papa, who places her in front of him on the horse, his arm holding the reigns securely around her stomach. This is not the first time she has been on a horse with him and she knows what to do, holding on tight to his arm and the edge of the saddle in front of her.

The carriage slows a little as the king calls to d'Artagnan, who guides his horse back to its rightful place. He inclines his head to the king, queen and little Louis and Marie instinctively does the same.

"This is your daughter?" asks the queen, from the carriage window, to which her papa nods in response, "What a beautiful girl you are. Enjoy the ride, little one," she says.

"Thank you, your majesty," Marie replies politely. "You are very beautiful," she can't help but add, awed by the queen's grace and poise as only a five year old girl who dreams of being a princess can be. The queen smiles as d'Artagnan guides his horse to ride alongside his brothers. Porthos resists the urge to clap him on the back. Marie, looking back for a brief second, is pleased to see the Clara's mouth hanging open.

 

Hours later, exhausted but delighted, Marie and her papa walk home from the garrison hand in hand. They have fed, watered and groomed his horse together, her extra two hands making up for his broken one. Aramis has checked him over and declared that no damage has been done. And even Athos has had to grudgingly admit that it was a job well done. Perhaps one of their most smoothly accomplished missions to date. And when they get home, Marie babbles away to her mama, telling her every detail of the day, and her parents can only smile and bask in the child's innocent happiness, so easily won.


End file.
